


It's When You See All Their Faults and Want Them Anyway

by Foxgrrl42



Series: Misty & Danny Forever [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Iron Fist (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Luke Cage (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Budding Love, Crime Fighting, F/M, First Dates, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Past Relationship(s), set post Defenders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-28 17:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11422593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxgrrl42/pseuds/Foxgrrl42
Summary: “You are sly."“Comes in handy when making cute kung fu masters all blushy, doesn’t it?”“See, you saying that is making me even more blushy.”Her eyebrows arched dangerously and Danny Rand, the Immortal Iron Fist, fell a little bit in love. Just a little, but still just as deadly.She glanced at his eyes then his lips and back again. “Good,” she said, satisfied more with his behavior than his words.





	It's When You See All Their Faults and Want Them Anyway

**Author's Note:**

> This is part three of an ongoing series, so if you're a new reader it would be a good idea to read at least part one first. Things will probably make more sense. If you prefer not to I'll give you the rundown. 
> 
> After the Defenders defeated The Hand Misty Knight took several of them in for questioning. Danny Rand was among them and developed an instant crush on the detective. Despite his dorky awkwardness he somehow managed to get her number and secure a lunch date. 
> 
> Enjoy~

There were many flaws Danny Rand knew he possessed, but he liked to think that patience was one of his strengths. Being raised by a bunch of monks who spent their lives waiting for a vague and improbable enemy will do that to you.

Once upon a time all he did was wait. For what he hadn’t known, but he had plenty to do to pass the time. Back at K’un-Lun it all was training and waiting, then trials and waiting, then guarding the wall and waiting. Until finally, one fateful morning he saw that magnificent bird of prey fly by the misty mountain peaks and he knew _his_ lifetime of waiting was over.

At least he thought it was.

Turns out his so called ‘lifetime of waiting’ was nothing compared to now. In a diner near the heart of Harlem Danny anxiously sat in a small booth meant for two and contemplated what could possibly be taking Misty so long.

So much for all his talk of patience.

According to his phone, which he’d apprehensively checked nearly a hundred times, it was already twenty minutes past the time they’d agreed to meet.  

Could she really have forgotten?

It was plausible. Being a homicide detective in a big city like New York, Misty had a lot on her plate and not a whole lot of space in between. Even _setting_ a time for their date around her schedule had been difficult because she could get called into work on such short notice. Perhaps in her busy life of solving murders and saving lives she forgot her comparatively insignificant rendezvous with Danny. What was he thinking in believing that someone like her would find time for someone like him anyway?

While Misty had purpose, direction and a defined place in her own world, Danny felt like aimless wanderer and a square peg wherever he went. In K’un-lun, he was the city boy among village monks. At Rand and with the Meachums, he was the secluded monk among worldly businessmen. With Colleen and the students of her dojo, he was the rich businessman among poor street kids. Even with the Defenders, a group _he_ assembled, he was the naive kid among disillusioned adults. As much as he loved and cherished all these people and places, a part of him always didn’t quite click. He didn’t fit in _anywhere,_ so how could he have the audacity to think he could possibly fit in with Misty?

No, this wasn’t working.

Thinking like that was just getting him wasn’t getting him anywhere. If his time as a square peg and a student at K’un-Lun had taught him anything it was how to pull himself out of a rut. Not to control how he felt, but his reactions to feelings. His master hadn’t explained it to him this way, but Danny like to think of his mind as a the plane and he was the pilot. There was a difference between turbulence and a crash.

He’d know considering he’d been _in_ one.

He took a deep breath, centered himself and stopped drumming his fingers on the table. While so deeply engrossed in his thoughts he hadn’t even noticed he was doing it.

In an a attempt to clear his mind with a change of scenery he switched seats, so he was facing the door. Then changed his mind again and switched back, so he could see all the other booths. Now that he probably looked as nervous as he felt, he observed the inhabitants of the restaurant.

(Misty wasn’t there yet.)

On the other side of the room a couple laughed and stole french fries off each other’s plates. In the far corner an older gentlemen was playing chess with a young man. The young man was losing. Horribly. Meanwhile the older man was focused on stealing the attention of a woman and not so much on the game, which made the fact that he was winning all the more impressive. The woman, who was about the same age as the man attempting to lock her gaze, was blatantly ignoring him.

(Misty _still_ wasn’t there yet.)

The woman was dark haired with glasses and thin, stern lips. Danny couldn’t tell whether she was a waitress or some sort of supervisor, because occasionally she’d bring a customer a drink and chat with them, but she’d also talk to other waitresses in a manner that was obviously authoritative even if you couldn’t hear what she was saying. Similar to an old, regal lioness of the savanna, she surveyed her kingdom; making rounds through the tables and keeping the cubs in line. Perhaps she was the owner.

(Misty was probably off having lunch with some other cooler, less messed up guy.)

As if unsure of her prey, the lioness eyed him from the other end of the establishment as she tidied an empty booth. Part of him theorized that she recognized him, but hadn’t quite decided what to do about it yet, an entirely plausible theory, considering all the publicity he’d gotten after returning to New York. The old man managed to get her to look at him for a split second and he sent her a flirtatious wink, which she didn’t return. Instead he received a flippant remark, inaudible to Danny, but the old man seemed to find it hilarious. The younger man protested the loss of his knight, which the old man also found hilarious. The couple touched hands across the table.

(Misty and the cooler guy were probably touching hands across a table.)

(Also he was drumming his fingers again.)

Dammit. This wasn’t working either.

An idea occurred to him.

He pulled out the blue paper placemat from under his silverware, folded down the corner and carefully ripped off the little rectangle left at the bottom of the fold to make it into a square. Then he proceeded to make a paper balloon. Despite the fact that you could say that Danny did a lot of paperfolding he wouldn’t call it a hobby. More like something he did when he was anxious and there happened to be paper around. Not a hobby, but a habit like twiddling your thumbs or biting your nails.

Paper folding, or _zhézhǐ_ was probably the most domestic activity people concerned themselves with at the monastery. In Danny’s first year at K’un-Lun, he and the other young students had gotten really into it, except for Davos who could never get the hang of folding. All his paper cups turned out bent and lopsided, and he’d screw up his balloons so many times that he’d rip them in frustration. As a result Danny ended up making a lot of zhézhǐ _for_ Davos. Prior to their mutually beneficial paperfolding exchange Davos had treated him just like all the other children in the village had.

Like an outsider.

When they weren’t avoiding him they’d throw rocks at him and taunt him in Mandarin and Tibetan, which Danny, at the time, still had a lot of trouble understanding. Until one day he happened across Davos sitting by the river and swearing at the crumpled piece of parchment in his hands. After figuring out _what_ exactly Davos was trying to do, Danny offered to help. Davos watched as the other boy turned the lump paper into a little boat with ease.

From then on they were inseparable.

While Danny told Davos about the outside world and made a ton of zhézhǐ, Davos helped him learn both languages and beat the crap out of the other kids who bullied him. Together they’d get into all sorts of mischief.

One of their favorite things to do was fill up a couple of Danny’s paper balloons with water, hurriedly climb to the roof of the monastery before the water destroyed them and throw them at the ground. Danny remembered the look of wonder on Davos’ face as his water balloons hit the earth with a splat.

As Danny gazed at the finished balloon in his palm he couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

Then a different one flickered in his mind and the smile faded.

In it the water wasn’t in the balloons, but in the rain. The remnants of paper creations weren’t on the ground, but Davos was and Danny was standing over him _screaming_ at him to yield. What had happened to that look of wonder?

Danny wondered where his friend was now.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Danny jumped at the unexpected voice and the paper balloon flew out of his grasp. He scrambled to catch it only for it to land in the hand of the one responsible for derailing his thoughts in the first place; none other than Misty Knight. The memories banished themselves to the corner of his mind at sight of Misty’s confident stature. He hadn’t seen her since they first met, which was a pleasure unto itself.

Not to mention she _looked_ amazing.

His friend, Trish Walker, was right about her showing up in something casual, because the fanciest thing Misty probably had on was a gold colored necklace whose design reminded him of tiny wind chimes. Other than that all she was wearing was a black shirt, jeans, and a short dark red jacket. The whole ensemble was simple and straightforward, which made sense for no-nonsense-Misty.

On some level maybe J-Money was right about the importance of looks. Steadily he found that what people wore tended to correlate with their personalities. Or at least the one they were trying to convey, but it was a language Danny had yet to be fluent in. He resolved to ask Trish for more guidance.

While he was relieved at Misty’s arrival, he also felt the onslaught of embarrassment. He was the Immortal Iron Fist after all. You’d think he could manage to hold on to a paper balloon.

“No need to be jumpy, I don’t bite.” Misty winked. “That hard.” She lightly threw the balloon in the air and caught it again. “What gives? I thought kung fu was supposed to give you better reflexes,” she teased.   

He blushed. “Seems I’m having an off day.”

Or he was hell bent on making a fool of himself. That too.

“Don’t worry, hotshot. It’s only, what? One fifteen? Plenty’a time to make a come back.” She tossed the balloon back to him and slid into the other side of the booth.

“Uh, Misty?” Danny said with a little scratch to the back of his neck. “It’s um a-actually it’s almost a quarter to two.”

“Shit.” She noticeably winced. “Am I really _that_ late?”

Now he felt bad for pointing it out.

“It’s fine,” he replied, attempting to alleviate her. “I know Manhattan traffic is tough even on a Saturday.”

“No, it’s my fault. I lost track of time doing paperwork.” She sighed. “I’ve been trying to be better about that. Seems workaholism keeps on sabotaging my regular life.”

“Really? For me it’s the opposite. My life sabotages my work,” he said with an intended tint of humor, but in truth it was no joke.

Danny once said he wasn’t a very good business man and he’d meant it. At that moment he almost had the hang of working at Rand and Ward wasn’t all that bad of a teacher now that the two of them were on good terms, but at the same time the matters of the Iron Fist had a tendency to get in the way of Danny’s success. Almost every staff meeting he was late because something came up, like running into a mugging on the way to the office or a battle with a foe going a little longer than expected. During the Defenders’ struggle with The Hand, Danny had to take nearly a whole collective week off work with little notice, which Ward was _still_ pissed about. Consequently, when Misty told him of her self sabotage, he understood the feeling.

“I wouldn’t know,” Misty replied wistfully. “People are always telling me to get more of a life. Whatever _that_ means. Mostly I straight up ignore em, cause I _love_ what I do.” Misty said ‘love’ with such certainty and vibrancy that Danny could've feel her enthusiasm. “I put my work above almost everything else and that feels right. I _know_ it’s right, but every now and then something like _this,”_ she gestured to Danny and the whole situation in general, _“_ happens and something _always_ does. I blow off a friend by accident, or forget a birthday, or I’m _late._ It’s dumb, but stuff like that makes me question whether everyone is really all that wrong.”

Danny tilted his head in concern.

On some note he understood where the people she spoke of were coming from. Balance in one’s life was important and if Misty only focused on work every second of her life that would be bad, but at the same time it wasn’t his or anyone else’s place to decide what that balance was. It was _Misty’s_ path to find and follow, and it wasn’t at all okay to try to force hers onto one that wasn’t hers.

More than anything there was the fact that Misty’s police work was important. Not just to her happiness, but to New York. She was out there everyday trying to make her city safer and lucky for everyone else that was something the she was not only amazing at, but loved doing too. Why anyone would discourage her from that was beyond him.

His case wasn’t dissimilar.

Being a Defender was hard on his job and several of his friendships, but he wouldn’t ever give it up. It was something he knew was right and if Misty felt the same then nothing should stop her.

“Hey, _no_ , it’s not dumb. Everybody is unsure of themselves once in awhile. It took me _way_ too long for me to realize it, but a little doubt is healthy as long as it’s helping you conclude what’s best for you. That’s not to say it’s always right,” he clarified. “If your work is what makes you happy then I think you should keep putting your all into it. Seriously, I don’t care that you’re late as long as you’re _here_ . I came to see _you_ , not whoever everyone else thinks you should be.”

For a split second look of surprise crossed her face and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Thanks,” she said in a tone Danny had never heard from her before. He couldn’t quite place it’s meaning, but it was softer than her usually strong voice.

“Does this mean I’m making that come back?”

With that he melted any and all somber seriousness from the conversation. While he was happy to see it go, a part of him felt a little closer to understanding Misty than he had when he was eagerly awaiting her no more than a few minutes ago.

She smirked. “We’ll see.” The strong voiced, witty Detective had returned. “What’s with arts and crafts hour back there?”

It took Danny a second to figure out what she was talking about.

“Oh! You mean this?” He held up the balloon. “It’s nothing really. Sometimes I do zhézhǐ when I’m bored.”

Misty made a confused expression. “Jeng-what?”

“Zhézhǐ,” Danny politely corrected. He didn’t know why he said the proper mandarin term for it, seeing as it was unlikely Misty had any idea what he was talking about. “It’s kinda like the Chinese version of origami.”

“Cool.” She said. “You think you could teach me how to make a paper crane? I’ve always wanted to do that.”

He smiled apologetically. “Sorry, that’s not the sort of paper folding I know.”

“Wait. Let me get this straight. So you’re part of the Order of The Kung Fu Crane, you know all this origami Je-ji stuff and yet you don’t know how to make a crane?”

It was ‘ _zhézhǐ_ ’ not ‘ _Je-ji_ ’ and Order of The Crane _Mother_ not whatever she had said, but Danny refrained from revising her statement this time. He had a feeling Misty purposely messed it all up for effect.

He chuckled. “No, birds and nature are more of a Japanese paper folding thing. That’s the actual origami. What we did at K’un-Lun was zhézhǐ, which is all about objects, like boxes,” he placed the balloon on the table, “or balloons.”

He knew that about Japanese origami because Colleen had once told him that his ‘Chinese-ish’ paperfolding was boring in comparison to what she’d learned in Japan as a child, to which Danny strongly disagreed. Sure, Colleen’s flowers and butterflies were pretty, but what could you _do_ with them? At least with a box you could store trinkets in it and those balloons were fun in all sorts of interesting activities, but what was he gonna do with a flightless crane? She’d scoffed at that.

 _‘Not everything is about functionality, monastery boy.’_     

Danny wondered if Misty would have agreed with her.

The detective tilted her head and leaned back in her seat as she studied him with the vague amusement. She held herself in a way that gave the impression she had and would always have had the upper hand, as if to say ‘I don’t care if you have unbeatable kungfu chi powers, I can still kick your butt with just my pinky finger any day of the week, but I won’t because I’m feeling generous.’ No matter where she went, Danny surmised that she always stood tall, with her chin up and shoulders back, not out of stiff hierarchy, but genuine, natural pride. Misty acted like the boss, because she believed herself to be.

For her control felt right.

“One of these days you’re gonna have to tell me more about that monastery,” she mused.

“Perhaps I will,” he replied.

Not that he was ready to tell her everything, but just the idea that she wanted to learn made his heart sing. In time perhaps he’d find the strength to give her more than just the summary on the back of the book. Someday, if he played his cards right, Misty Knight would know his whole story.  

Goodness knew he ached to hear hers.

They exchanged a knowing look that said more than what they could’ve possibly articulated to each other before and Danny felt something shift in his heart.

The owner(?) from earlier took this as an opportunity to approach them.

“I assume you want the usual, Mercedes,” she said idly in Misty’s direction, pen and order book in hand.

Danny watched the exchange with bemusement. Mercedes? Wasn’t that a type of car?

“How many times do I gotta tell you, Missus T?” Misty spoke to the owner with a look of familiarity and embarrassment, like a teenager getting a big wet smooch on the cheek from her mother in front of her friends. “It’s Misty now. You _know_ that.”

Without even tearing her eyes away from her notepad, ‘Missus T.’ immediately began mildly scolding Misty, like it was an involuntary reflex. “And how many times do I have to tell you? Names have power. You shouldn’t give that up for some quicker alternative. No, I call you by the name your mother gave you; _Mercedes._ And you.” She looked up from her notepad and down at Danny. “What would you like to drink?”

“Water is still fine, thank you,” Danny said and then turned to Misty with mischievous grin he couldn’t hold back. “Also, _Mercedes_?”

“ _Don’t,”_ Misty replied and made a sound halfway between a laugh and scoff. “Don’t even start.”

He wished he could say that he hadn’t giggled, that the sound he produced was a manly deep throated laugh, but that would’ve been a lie. He most definitely giggled and gave Misty a mock salute.“Yes Ma’am, Detective Misty.”

She nodded approvingly, “Damn straight.”

“Alright, that’s an iced tea for Mercedes and more water for her friend,” Missus T said. “Now tell me, are you kids here for business? Or leisure?”

“Leisure, actually,” Danny said. Then it dawned on him that he had neglected to introduce himself, which was rude even if this so called Missus T _had_ recognized him earlier. “Sorry, I’m Danny Ra--”

“Ah, ah, aaah,” Missus T cut him off. “I know who you are. Rich boy with too much fighting in his blood and money in his pocket for his own good. My Claire told me all about you.”

Wait, Missus _T_ ? _Claire_? The jigsaw pieces in Danny’s brain fell together.

“You must be Claire Temple’s mom!” he exclaimed. He got up from his seat and respectfully held Temple senior’s hand between his. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Ms. Temple. Your restaurant looks even nicer than your daughter’s description.”  

Despite having never met her before, Danny had gathered a number of good qualities about Ms. Temple that he’d heard from Claire and Luke. One (his personal favorite) being, Luke owned a number of knitted accessories made by her, including a pair of yellow and grey mittens and a matching scarf, which Luke wore often during the winter months. Anyone who worried about the unbreakable man getting chilly had to have a good heart.

Plus Danny knew first hand that she was an amazing cook from all the yummy treats Claire would occasionally bring by the dojo with love from her mother, so she’d already won his stomach over if nothing else.

While the tight braided, austere woman before him was far from the huggable, scarf knitting, dessert making, Claire Temple raising, mother he’d imagined, he also knew looks could be deceiving and he was delighted to meet her all the same.  

Ms. Temple narrowed her eyes and raised her eyebrow at him, clearly unimpressed by his gallant handshake and compliments. “Hmph, a charmer,” she said and turned to Misty. “Watch out for this one. He’s trouble.”

Before saying anything Misty gave Danny an amused glance as he was sitting down, like Ms. Temple’s suspicion towards him was an inside joke. “You think everyone’s trouble,” she said.

Ms. Temple smirked, making that the closest she’d gotten to a real smile since the conversation had started. “Am I wrong?” she replied. Without another word she turned her sensible heels and proceeded to disappear behind the diner kitchen door.

Misty fondly chuckled as she watched her go, giving him the impression that this was something that happened all the time.  

“You two seem friendly,” Danny said, hoping Misty would provide further explanation.

She did not disappoint.

“Yeah, we met back when I was still just an officer. Helped her out when this place was robbed by a couple of neighborhood knuckleheads. Funny story actually. The tough old bird put up quite a fight.”

“How so?” Danny intrigued, leaned in closer.

“According to eyewitness reports she snuck up behind one of them with a meat cleaver and chopped off two his fingers.” She said this as a matter of factly, as if cutting off fingers was just a normal Tuesday for Ms. Temple.

Danny’s eyebrows practically shot up to the ceiling. “No!”

Obviously pleased with his reaction Misty’s lips spread into an indulgent grin. “Yes.”

“But how?” he questioned. “Don’t they normally use weapons when robbing, well, anything? How’d she get the drop on them?”

“Pure dumb luck. When the soon to be dismembered guy and his buddy pulled their guns in here, Mrs. T was taking out the garbage. Because she came in through the backdoor in the kitchen they didn’t see her, but she sure as hell saw _them_.” As Misty told this Danny noticed a satisfied in her eye and he knew she was enjoying the story of Momma Temple’s badassery as much as he was, if not more. “She noticed one of the men was busy making sure the customers didn’t run for it while the other was unloading the cash box, so she grabbed a knife, got behind the cash box dude, and bam! Poor guy ran out of the place screaming with half the money and two missing fingers.”

“Okay. It’s official. Claire’s mom is my new favorite person.”

She laughed and he loved the sound. Immediately he resolved to make her laugh as often as possible. “And I ain’t even finished yet!” she said. “She ran after him for good three blocks. When the neighbors saw a lady with a bloody butcher knife chasing after a man carrying a big bag of cash, they didn’t know who to call the cops on.”  

Ms. Temple returned with their drinks. “I would’ve caught that hijo de puta too, if it weren’t for my bad knee,”

“I damn sure believe it,” Misty interjected, already sipping her iced tea.

“ _That_ was awesome.” Danny looked up at Ms. Temple in awe. Even though he was the Iron Fist and could do amazing things himself, he was continuously stupefied by the feats of ordinary, unassuming people. While Defenders were extraordinary in their own right, it was the Wards, the Colleens and the Temples of the world that never ceased to astound.

“No no no,” unused to the attention Ms. Temple instinctively attempted to dissipate his admiration, “ _that_ was a long time ago. After that army of aliens dropped out of the sky things changed ‘round here. I can’t afford to be as bold as I once was and neither can you.”

“Aw, but--” Danny tried to protest, but Ms. Temple once again interrupted him. He had a premonition this would become a theme.

“But I _can,_ however, take your order,” Ms. Temple said. “What would you kids like to eat?”

So they ordered.

Misty asked for a BLT and Danny went for a large stack of blueberry pancakes. He could feel his stomach growl just at the thought of food. With all the distractions he had forgotten how late it was for lunch and he was starved. It would still be awhile for their meals to get there, but at least this time he wasn’t waiting alone.

“How did you catch the eight fingered man, by the way?” he asked.

Misty grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

What followed were a number of weird criminal stories, which Danny devoured with enthusiasm. Turns out Misty ran into a ton of interesting people as a Harlem detective, although _‘interesting’_ wasn’t the word she used.

“Bunch of half baked screwballs, but most of them are just assholes.”

He snickered.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just ‘ _screwballs_ ’.”

“Would you have preferred nutjobs? Fruitcakes? Looney toons?”   

That just made him laugh harder.

She snorted, slightly amused yet slightly annoyed. Mostly amused. “Oh, _stop_.”

He didn’t stop. She threw napkin at him. Still he didn’t stop. In fact the napkin may have made things worse. All the noise he was making was beginning to draw attention from other customers.

Misty made a show of putting her hands on her hips in a pseudo indignance, but the ridiculousness of the situation was getting to her too. “Don’t mind him,” she addressed everyone. “Blondie over here is just jealous of my illustrious vocabulary.”

“That’s it,” Danny said, struggling for air, “so jealous.”

With many raised eyebrows and shrugs, the restaurant population went back to their meals.

The more they talked the more Danny noticed Misty loosen up. That’s not to say she was particularly tightly strung before, just--

He wasn’t sure how to explain it other than she seemed to become more relaxed with him, like this was the way she acted when she was with her closest friends or with family. She laughed more, swore more and teased him incessantly, which he didn’t mind of course.

He marveled at how much easier she was to talk to than Colleen had been. When Danny met her, Colleen was very shut off and in retrospect he couldn’t blame her. What was he thinking walking into her place with no shoes and asking for a job anyway? It took a while for her to warm up to him and even longer for him to stop acting like an unintentional jerk around her. Thankfully everything turned out alright in the end. They were the best of friends now even if things hadn’t worked romantically.

With Misty the nervous jerk period was far shorter mostly because she wasn’t unwilling to speak to him for more than a couple minutes. More conversation meant more of a chance for Danny to gauge who she really was and he liked what he saw. The more she loosened up, the more he loosened up. He felt more like himself and he could tell Misty felt the same.

Maybe he did fit somewhere after all.     

Soon their food came and time passed rapidly as they exchanged memories and jokes. Misty gave tales of mystery and murder from her job as Danny told her more about his time in K’un-Lun.

Still not everything.

He skirted around thoughts of Davos and instead focused on other aspects, like his master Lei-Kung.

To the naked eye Lei-Kung, the Mighty Thunderer, was serious and reserved, but beneath lay a well of compassion. He taught Danny how to be strong, to armor himself, to banish weakness and become a living weapon. Despite the fact that he was especially hard on both Danny and Davos, he was never cruel. His beatings, his teachings and tests all came from a place of love. It took leaving for Danny to finally realize that.

“Doesn’t justify beating you,” Misty said.

Her words reminded him of something similar Joy told him once, back when Joy was still in New York and not where ever she was now.

_‘Sounds like abuse.’_

Unlike Joy, however, Misty held no note of pity in her voice, which was good for Danny. He never knew how to deal with people feeling sorry for him. No, Misty didn’t pity him. She simply said things how she saw them. No matter what.

Of course her perspective wasn’t the only way of seeing.

“Maybe not,” he replied, “but it made me who I am. I’m stronger because of it.”

“What doesn’t kill ya, I suppose,” Misty said before taking another bite of sandwich. She chewed and swallowed. “Doesn’t mean I have to like the guy.”

He speculated what Lei-Kung would make of the woman sitting across from him with her BLT and unshakable moral compass. She was so radically different than anyone he’d known in village. Not only in appearance, but in spirit. People in K’un-Lun were told what was right and what was wrong. They loved The Order of The Crane Mother, because it was all they’d known. They despised The Hand because they were taught to, but Misty? She always decided for herself.

Danny wished he’d learned how to do that sooner.

Long after they finished their meals Ms. Temple finally gave up waiting for their que brought their check anyway, seeing as both of them were too wrapped up in each other to ask for it. Then they bickered for a good long while about who would pay.

“I’m the billionaire, Misty. You shouldn’t feel like you need to pick up the check.”

“That ain’t got _anything_ to do with it. It’s the principle of the thing!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”

Eventually they gave in and split the cost evenly.

After everything was paid for and they said their goodbyes to Momma Temple, Misty and Danny tarried outside the restaurant.

“Well, that was nice,” Danny said.

“Yeah,” she replied, “real nice.”

They stood there for a moment, silent. Hands shoved in his pockets, Danny gently rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. Misty fingered her purse strap.

“So I’ll call you,” she added.

“Me too.” He studied the sidewalk.

“I should probably get moving.”

“Me too,” he said again, like an idiot.

Neither of them got moving.

They stood for another ten seconds reluctant to budge. Like he was in that interrogation room all over again, he felt blushy and flustered. He was scared that if he said anything he’d screw everything up, but she wasn’t saying anything either, which made him think he was screwing up anyway. That just made him even more afraid to speak.

What was he doing? Or more accurately; why wasn’t he doing anything?

“Hey,” Misty finally spoke, “I don’t think I’m quite ready to head home yet. Are you?”

“Nope.” He glanced up from the crack in the pavement he’d been pretending was so interesting for the past ten seconds.

“How ‘bout we walk for awhile instead?” she offered.

Oh, thank _god._

“That sounds nice,” he responded with relief. Things were happening again. They were saying things again. Things were good. He liked things.

She flashed her teeth in a quick smirk. “Real nice?”

“Really nice,” he confirmed and returned her smirk.

Misty smiled and shook her head. “Let’s go this way.” She gestured behind her. “I’ll show you ‘round the neighborhood.”

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter two is in the works and almost done. If you have any questions, critiques or corrections don't be too shy to leave a comment. I love talking to you guys <3
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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